Minx (35 page)

A few hours later Henry was finishing her preparations for that evening's ball. As always, she felt a little shiver of excitement at the thought of seeing Dunford that evening. It was strange how, now that they had professed their love for each other, their time together had grown even more thrilling. Every look, every touch was so infused with meaning; he had only to glance at her a certain way, Henry thought wryly, and she forgot how to breathe.

There was a chill in the night air, so she donned a gown of midnight-blue velvet. Dunford came by to escort her, as did Belle and John, who arrived in their own carriage. "Perfect," Caroline declared, clapping her hands together. "With two carriages already here, there is no reason to have mine brought round. I'll, ah, I'll just ride with Dunford and Henrietta."

Dunford's face fell visibly.

"And Henry—that is to say my Henry," Caroline explained, "shall ride with Belle and John."

Belle muttered something about not needing a chaperone when she was married, but Henry was the only one close enough to hear.

The ride to Hampton House was fairly uneventful, as Henry had expected it would be. There certainly wasn't much opportunity for an "event" to arise with Caroline in the carriage. Once at the ball Henry was immediately swept away by the crush of the crowd, most of whom already had decided she must be quite the most interesting young woman of the year if she had managed to land Dunford with such apparent ease.

Dunford watched her parry comments with nosy dowagers and equally nosy young debutantes, decided she was handling herself just fine, and went off to get some fresh air. Much as he wanted to spend every waking minute with her, it wouldn't do to spend too much time by her side. They were engaged, that was true, so people would expect him to pay her a bit more attention than usual, but there was also some less-than-pleasant gossip concerning how exactly they had met. They had, after all, become engaged only two weeks after her arrival in London. Dunford didn't think any of the gossip had reached Henry's ears yet, but he didn't want to do anything that might fan the flames. He decided to give her a bit of time to socialize with Caroline's friends, all highly influential and with unimpeachable reputations, then he'd return to claim her for a waltz. No one could fault him one dance.

He wandered over to the French doors leading out onto the garden. Lady Hampton had had the area lit with Chinese lanterns, and it was nearly as bright outside as it was inside. He leaned lazily against a pillar and was contemplating his tremendous good fortune when he heard someone calling his name. He turned his head.

The Earl of Billington was walking toward him, a smile on his face that was mocking and self-deprecating at the same time. "I just wanted to offer you my congratulations once again," he said. "I don't know quite how you managed it, but you do deserve the best of wishes."

Dunford nodded graciously. "You'll find someone else."

"Not this year. Crop's pitifully thin. Your Henry was the only one with half a brain."

Dunford arched his brow. "Half a brain?"

"Imagine my delight when I discovered that the only debutante with half a brain actually had one in its entirety." Billington shook his head. "I'll have to wait until next year."

"Why the rush?"

"Believe me, Dunford, you don't want to know."

Dunford found that comment quite cryptic but pressed no further, respecting the other man's privacy.

"Although," Billington continued, "since it appears I will not be getting myself leg-shackled this season, I most probably will be looking for a companion."

"A companion, you say?"

"Mmm-hmm. Clarise returned to Paris a few weeks ago. Said it was too rainy here."

Dunford pushed away from the pillar. "I just might be able to help you out."

Billington motioned with his hand to the darker recesses of the lawn. "I had a feeling you might."

Lady Sarah-Jane Wolcott saw the two men walking toward the back of the garden, and her interest was immediately piqued. They had been conversing already for several minutes; what else could they need to talk about that would require even greater privacy? Mentally blessing the fact that she had chosen to wear a dark green dress that evening, she slipped into the shadows, moving quietly toward them until she found a spot where she could hide behind a large shrub. If she leaned forward, she could catch most of the gentlemen's conversation.

"... going to have to get rid of Christine of course." That sounded like Dunford.

"I certainly didn't think you'd want to keep supporting a mistress with such a lovely wife."

"I should have cut her loose weeks ago. Haven't been to see her since I returned to London. One must be delicate about these things, though. I really don't want to hurt her feelings."

"Of course not."

"The lease isn't up on her house for a few months. That ought to give her time enough to find another protector."

"I was thinking about offering myself for that role."

That earned a chuckle from Dunford.

"I've had my eye on her for a few months now. Just been waiting until you tired of her."

"I was planning to meet with her Friday evening at midnight, to tell her I'm getting married, although she's bound to have heard already. I'll put in a good word for you."

Billington smiled as he took a sip of the drink he'd been holding in his hand. "You do that."

"I must confess, I'm glad you've taken an interest in her. She's a nice woman. I shouldn't like to think of her set adrift."

"Good." Billington slapped Dunford on the back.

"I'd best be getting back to the party. One never knows when a debutante with a brain might show up. I'll talk to you next week, after you've had a chance to deal with Christine."

Dunford nodded and watched Billington stride back across the terrace. After a few moments he did the same.

Sarah-Jane's lips curved into a smile as she pondered what she had just overheard and what use she could make of the tidbit. She wasn't exactly certain what it was about Miss Henrietta Barrett that so rankled her, but rankle she did. Perhaps it was simply the fact that Dunford was quite obviously besotted with the girl when she, Sarah-Jane, had been angling after him for nearly a year. And little Miss Henry obviously felt the same way. Every time she looked at the chit, she was looking at Dunford as if he were a god.

Sarah-Jane supposed that was what irritated her most about the girl—she was so damned innocent and unaffected, rather like Sarah-Jane had been at that age, before her parents married her off to Lord Wolcott, a notorious lecher three times her age. Sarah-Jane had consoled herself with a string of affairs, mostly with married men. Henry was going to be in for a rude awakening when she realized that married men did not remain faithful to their wives for very long.

Her head snapped up. Why not teach Henry that little lesson early? It wasn't as if she were doing anything evil, Sarah-Jane rationalized. Henry was going to have to learn the sad truth about ton marriages sooner or later. And perhaps sooner was better. Approached from that angle, it was obvious that she was actually doing Henry a favor. Better that the chit enter her marriage with open eyes than become horribly disillusioned a few months later.

Sarah-Jane was smiling as she made her way back to the party.

Henry tried hard not to crane her neck as she scanned the crowds for Dunford. Where on earth had the man gone? She had spent the last half hour answering questions about their upcoming nuptials and thought it was high time he did his fair share.

"May I congratulate you on your upcoming marriage?"

Henry sighed and turned to the latest well-wisher, then opened her eyes a little wider when she saw it was Sarah-Jane Wolcott. "Lady Wolcott," she said, unable to keep a touch of frost from her voice. The lady had, after all, practically thrown herself on Dunford the last time they had met. "What a surprise."

"Why a surprise?" Sarah-Jane replied with a tilt of her head. "Surely you do not think I would begrudge another lady the happiness of wedded bliss."

Henry wanted to tell her she had no idea what she would or would not do, but mindful of the curious eyes and ears around her, she merely smiled and said, "Thank you."

"I assure you, I have nothing but the fondest wishes for you and your fiancé."

"I believe you," Henry said through clenched teeth, wishing that the other lady would just disappear.

"Good, but I would like to give you a bit of advice. From one woman to another, of course."

Henry did not have a good feeling about this. "That is very kind of you, Lady Wolcott, but Lady Worth, Lady Blackwood, and the Duchess of Ashbourne have all been most kind in giving me all sorts of necessary advice as pertains to the married state."

"That is very good of them, I am sure. I would expect no less from such gracious ladies."

Henry swallowed down the bad taste in her mouth and refrained from saying that the three ladies in question did not view Lady Wolcott with equal admiration.

"The advice I have for you," Sarah-Jane continued with an affected twist of her wrist, "is something no one else could tell you."

Pasting a bright, unnatural smile on her face, Henry leaned forward and said, "I am breathless with anticipation."

"Of course you are," Sarah-Jane murmured. "But here, let us step back from the crowds for a moment. What I have to say is for your ears alone."

Eager now to do anything to get rid of the woman, Henry obligingly took a few paces back.

"Please believe that I would do nothing to hurt you," Sarah-Jane said in a low voice, "and I tell you this only because I do not believe that any woman should enter into marriage without her eyes widely opened. I was not given that privilege."

"What is it, Lady Wolcott?" Henry ground out.

"My dear, I just thought you should know that Dunford has a mistress."

Chapter 20

"Is that all, Lady Wolcott?" Henry said frigidly.

Sarah-Jane did not have to feign surprise. "Then you already knew. You must be an exceptional young woman to dote on him so when there is another woman in his life."

"I do not believe you, Lady Wolcott. I think you are malicious in the extreme. Now, if you will excuse me—"

Sarah-Jane caught hold of Henry's sleeve before she could make her escape. "I can understand your reluctance to accept that what I say is true. You probably fancy yourself in love with him."

Henry almost blurted out that she didn't "fancy" anything—she was in love with Dunford—but not wanting to give Lady Wolcott the satisfaction of seeing that her emotions had been roused, she simply clamped her mouth shut. Sarah-Jane cocked her head in an extremely condescending manner, and Henry, unable to take any more, tugged at her sleeve and said coldly, "Please let go of me."

"Her name is Christine Fowler. He is going to see her on Friday. At midnight."

"I said, 'Let go of me,' Lady Wolcott."

"Have it your own way, then, Miss Barrett. But think about this: if I am lying, how could I possibly give you the specific time of his next assignation? You could simply go to her house at midnight, see I am wrong, and declare me a liar." Abruptly, she let go of Henry's sleeve. "But I am not a liar."

Henry, who had been poised for flight just moments earlier, found herself rooted to the spot. Lady Wolcott's words held more than a grain of sense.

"Here." Sarah-Jane held out a piece of paper. "This is her address. Miss Fowler is rather well-known. Even I know where she lives."

Henry stared at the slip of paper as if it were a monster.

"Take it, Miss Barrett. What you choose to do with it is up to you."

Henry still stared, unable to identify the awful emotions coursing through her. Lady Wolcott finally picked up her hand, uncurled her fingers, and tucked the paper into her palm. "In case you don't read it, Miss Barrett, I will tell you the address. She lives at number fourteen, Russell Square, in Bloomsbury. It is quite a nice little house. I believe your husband-to-be acquired it for her."

"Please go away," Henry said, her voice flat.

"As you wish."

"Now."

Lady Wolcott inclined her head gracefully and disappeared into the crowd.

"Oh, there you are, Henry!"

Henry looked up and saw Belle approaching.

"What are you doing off in the corner?"

Henry swallowed. "Just trying to escape the crowds for a moment."

"I certainly cannot blame you. It can be rather wearisome being the latest rage, can it not? But have no fear, Dunford surely will be along shortly to save you."

"No!" Henry said wildly. "That is, I don't feel well. Would I be terribly rude if I went home now?"

Belle looked at her with concern in her eyes. "Of course not. You do look a trifle flushed. I hope you do not have the fever."

"No, I just... I just want to lie down."

"Of course. Why don't you make your way to the door? I'll find Dunford and have him escort you home."

"No." The word came out quickly and with more force than Henry intended. "That's not necessary. He's probably with his friends, and I don't want to interrupt him."